A Girl Worth Fighting For
by Praetorian Productions
Summary: Katniss lives in an AU where the citizens of Panem are subjected to the constant threat of war with the North. When Katniss decides to disguise herself as a man so she can volunteer for her 12-year-old brother, Sage, will she finally discover who she is—and who she loves? Everlark based on Disney's "Mulan" and the Mulan" legends; written for the THG Fairy Tale Fic Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Katniss lives in a canonverse AU where the citizens of Panem are subjected to grinding poverty, oppression, and the constant threat of war with the North. When Katniss decides to disguise herself as a man so she can secretly volunteer for her beloved 12-year-old brother, Sage, will she finally discover who she truly is—and who she truly loves? Eventual Everlark somewhat based on Disney's version of _Mulan _and the various "Mulan" legends and folk tales; written for the THG Fairy Tale Fic Challenge.

Story Title: A Girl Worth Fighting For

Story Rating: Teen

Relationships: Everlark

Warnings: Mild swearing, combat violence, verbal and physical abuse

Fairytale story is adapted from: The Mulan legends/folk tales

Complete or Work in Progress: WiP

A/N: I know this doesn't technically fit the description of a fairy tale, but I have read of Mulan stories being referred to as legends and folk tales. I read some of the fairy tales on the list and tried to convince myself that those were the ones I wanted to do, but then I realized the ridiculousness of worrying about playing strictly by the rules when writing a _Hunger Games_ fanfic. Besides, all of the fairy tales I considered doing were well covered by other, more talented writers in the fandom, so I'm glad I didn't do them. So this story is a mix of Disney's version of the Mulan legends, multiple varieties of those legends, and _The Hunger Games. _I'm not entirely sure where this is going, when I'll post more, or when, exactly, I'll finish this; were it not for the challenge deadline, this wouldn't have seen the light of day for months. I don't own _The Hunger Games,_ the Mulan legends/folk tales, or any of the various quotes I use throughout the story.

* * *

Katniss ran through the woods, keeping a steady, even pace like her father had instructed her to years ago.

"_It's like building a cooking fire, Katniss," _she remembered him saying. "_You want to build a fire that will burn down to coals that are hot enough to cook your meat all the way through but that are not so hot that they will sear and burn your hard-earned catch."_

The bittersweet memory made Katniss's heart catch, but her even pace never faltered. She never tired of running this circuit around her lake—at least not mentally. Her muscles were nearing the point of exhaustion, but she knew that she was close to reaching her goal. As if she had summoned its presence by mere thought, the Hanging Tree came into view as she rounded the last bend of her wild course.

She sprinted the final distance before slowing to a halt in front of the enormous, sprawling oak tree. Luxuriating in the shade provided by the seemingly ancient oak, Katniss instinctively bent over as her breath rasped in and out of her mouth. Her father's voice came back to her again, training once again overriding instinct.

"_Don't bend over when you're trying to catch your breath, Katniss; that will only make breathing harder. Lace your fingers together and put them on top of your head instead so that you'll be able to take bigger breaths."_

Katniss tipped her head back and placed her hands on her head, looking up at her full game bag hanging in the branches of the tree. Her father had discovered long ago that this particular tree was a great place to hang game in order to keep it out of the paws and jaws of hungry animals, so he took to calling it the Hanging Tree after the one in the song. He also later discovered that it had a particular branch that was perfect for doing chin-ups, completing the Hanging Tree image.

True, Katniss and her father knew that they could have simply kept the game in the little cabin on the other side of the lake, but neither of them usually wanted to spend any more time inside than was necessary.

"_Besides," _her father had said, _"Climbing trees is good exercise."_

This place made Katniss miss her father terribly, but this was also the place where she felt his presence the strongest. She continued to practice the exercises he had taught her in order to fulfill the promise she'd made to him long ago, but she also did them because they made her feel closer to her father's memory.

"_Katniss, we've all heard the rumors and know what will likely happen."_

"_We don't know anything for sure, Daddy. Maybe everyone is wrong."_

"_Maybe so, but we're going to be prepared. We could be called up to war tomorrow, next month, or next year. I might have time to teach you everything I know, or I might only be able to teach you how to run all the way around the lake without giving up and jumping in. Regardless of how many skills I manage to teach you, you must remember one thing: You _can _fight back. _

"_If Snow's foolishness gets us men killed, then it is going to be up to you women to protect the districts from the North. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself, how to fight back, and, most importantly, how to escape so you can live to fight another day. No matter what happens to me, Katniss, you must promise that you will always take care of Mommy and Sage; they are not fighters like we are, although they do have their own strengths."_

"I promise, Daddy," Katniss whispered to the Hanging Tree as she jumped up and clasped the low-hanging branch she and her father had used for chin-ups. She had gotten quite good at them and had developed decent upper-body strength.

_Well, at least I'm as strong as a malnourished Seam brat can be…_

Katniss did a few more of her father's exercises before she stripped off her clothes and slung them over the chin-up branch. She walked down to the water's edge and stopped, analyzing her reflection in the water. A scowl pinched her face as she looked herself over; she doubted that Effie Trinket would be terribly impressed, much less any boy.

She shrugged and undid her braid, running her fingers through her hair so that it would be able to float loosely around her. Had there been any chance of anyone seeing her, she would've been more self-conscious, but the only living people who knew about the lake were her mother, Sage, and Gale, and all of them were busy with their own activities.

_Besides, it's not like I'd really care if any of them saw me naked, _Katniss mused as she blissfully floated on the water's surface. _Mom saw me naked when I was born, Sage is my brother, and Gale may as well be. I mean, it's not like he hasn't seen me naked the numerous other times we've swam here…_

Katniss luxuriated in the feel of the water cocooning her body, even if it was a little too cold still for swimming. Her body was warm from exercising, and not even her father had been able to stop her from swimming—or doing anything else she wanted to do. She contemplated doing more of her father's exercises after finishing her swim, but she couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for getting out of the water.

_Those exercises are meant to do with another person, anyway, specifically one who is bigger than I am. No; I'll have to wait for Gale to have free time before we can practice our self-defense moves again._

Reluctantly acknowledging the sun's message that it was time to get out of the water, Katniss made her way to shore. She wrung the water out of her dark hair as best as she could before running her fingers through it to give it a chance to air-dry. The chilly water had cooled Katniss's body down, so she was more aware of the lingering chill in the air as she toweled off with an old scrap of clothing she'd saved for that purpose.

Quickly pulling her clothes off of the chin-up branch, she wasted no time in putting them on. She hastily braided her hair, knowing that there was a good chance that it wouldn't be dry by time she climbed under the fence to get back into District 12. That was a risk she was willing to take, however, as the seemingly ever-present feeling of foreboding compelled her to make her way back home to her family.

She scrabbled up the tree, grabbed her bulging game bag, snagged her bow, and began the trek back to District 12 without looking back at the lake.

* * *

Her lake felt like a distant memory as she slouched down further in her chair as Effie Trinket chattered on and on about the Treaty of the Treason. The delightful Ms. Trinket paid a visit to the assembled 15-18-year-old girls of District 12 a couple of times a year, and—as far as Katniss could tell—her lessons always lasted about the same length of time and covered the same basic areas. Effie was currently nattering on about why Capitol citizens got to have everything they wanted while the district people lived in squalor under constant threat of starvation.

_Dark Days…rebellion…blah, blah, blah…Crap that happened generations ago…our duty to Panem…yada, yada, yada…fight to preserve Panem's borders against the North…Snow's an idiot who's going to get us all killed…oh, wait; that was actually my thought…_

"…time to talk about the responsibilities all women of Panem bear," Effie said, snapping Katniss out of her boredom-induced stupor.

Katniss remembered this part of Effie's spiel from her last visit, and she doubted that she was going to like it any better this time through. She knew she had to pay attention, though; how else was she going to find a loophole, a way out?

"As I'm sure you are all aware, Panem's population is dangerously low."

_Because President Snow insists on going to war every five years or so, which kills off all our men,_ Katniss mentally added.

"This population crisis makes a woman's responsibilities all the more important as it is her place, her purpose, to help repopulate Panem by raising as many children as she can."

_So they can either go off to war when they're 12 or older and get slaughtered by Northern troops or give birth to sons of their own who will go off to war when they're 12 or older and get slaughtered by Northern troops._

"Women are also to ensure that their men are comfortable and well cared for so that the men will be able to live happy and productive lives."

_Or lie dead in the district cemetery like my father because they died in one of Snow's stupid wars._

"A woman is to be married when she achieves majority at the age of 19 so that she will be able to take advantage of her prime child-bearing years."

_Which I will spend scraping together enough to make ends meet for my mother and brother; forget having a husband._

"Any woman who is not married by the end of the month in which she turns 19 will immediately begin paying a caelebs tax and will continue to pay such a tax monthly until she is wed."

_Unless she is smart enough to come up with a way to get out of doing such a thing, which I…well, I'm working on it._

"Women are also encouraged to have vocations so long as their jobs do not interfere with their abilities to care for their families; fighting in combat is, of course, forbidden due to a woman's lack of suitability for the activity and for Panem's population's inability to sustain itself without child-bearers."

_Because starvation and losing our men to war are much better alternatives._

"Any woman caught trying to sneak into the military or—as unlikely a scenario as it may be—is actually caught during or after combat will either be immediately executed or—if the Capitol is feeling particularly merciful—assigned a husband that will help her fulfill her duty to Panem."

_I would eat a handful of nightlock berries before I would ever let the Capitol make me into a whore. Of course, if I defied the Capitol, then they would likely kill my mother, Sage, and maybe even the Hawthornes, so…"_

"Everdeen!" Katniss heard, startling her out of her dark musings.

"Katniss Everdeen!" Effie Trinket said impatiently. "This is the third time I've called your name, and we really must stay on schedule. Please come to the front of the assembly."

Katniss understood what her prey likely felt in that instant between the sound of her bowstring snapping and the impact of the arrow in its eye; she knew that there was no possible way that this was going to end well, and that there might even be bloodshed. Reluctantly, she stood up from her chair and made her way to the aisle of the assembly, her feet feeling like lead.

_How could I have forgotten this part of Trinket's visits? She always draws a name from a large glass ball and calls the _lucky _girl to the front of the room for ridiculous Capitol lessons on how to get a husband. Effie thinks she's a great matchmaker, but I don't know of anyone who has ever benefitted from her dating advice._

"Ms. Everdeen, perhaps you would benefit from not striding down the aisle as if you were on your way to the mines. Chin up; smile on. Well, dear, I guess that will have to do."

Katniss's shoulders were back, her chin was up, and her face probably wore the same expression she remembered seeing on Gale's face once when he was trying to charm his girlfriend of the week's mother out of punishing her daughter for getting caught with Gale at the slag heap. Gale had not known Katniss had been watching until later, but her imitation of what Gale had surely considered to be a charming, smooth smile was not as amusing to him as it had been to her. The memory prompted Katniss to smile and to temporarily forget about her upcoming humiliation.

"That's the smile, Ms. Everdeen! Young men like to court nice, happy young women who do not scowl and stomp about as they are walking down the street. Now that we have your posture and expression remedied, we need to work on our opening conversation. Approach me as if we are meeting at a dinner party…closer, please, Ms. Everdeen! You do not want your young man to think that you are uninterested in him."

_Sorry I don't have any experience attending dinner parties in the Seam._

"Like this, Ms. Trinket?" Katniss said, vowing to give this a try in order to stay out of trouble for the good of her family.

"I suppose that will do, Ms. Everdeen, although you really do need to remember to smile. Of course, you are going to have to do more than smile to get a husband; in fact, you are first going to have to get the young man interested in you in the first place. Okay, Ms. Everdeen; pretend I am a handsome young man who has walked up to you at a dinner party."

_Oh, this should be easy._

"Hello, Ms. Everdeen," Effie Trinket said in the least masculine imitation of a male voice Katniss had ever heard. "Now what do you say, Ms. Everdeen?"

"Um…hello?"

"Well, I suppose that is a good start; you do not want to seem too presumptuous. Oh, dear; it looks like the young man who has walked up to you has lost his courage. What type of question might you ask him to put his mind at ease and to draw him into conversation?"

Katniss's mind went blank.

"Uh…Why are you dressed up as Effie Trinket?"

Giggles and chuckles filled the room, causing Katniss to scowl. She tried to cover up her discomfort by pasting on that ridiculous grin again, and Effie seemed to buy it.

"Well, your young man may find your attempt at humor amusing; let us give you the benefit of the doubt and say he laughs awkwardly. Then what would you ask?"

_Are you facing the possibility of heading off to war soon or will you have the pleasure of anticipating the death of your father because he will soon be going off to war?"_

"Isn't this a lovely evening for a party? It's not too hot, not too cold, and all you need is a light jacket." Katniss asked, proud of herself for coming up with such a delightfully vapid answer complete with what she hoped was a simpering smile.

"Why, yes, Ms. Everdeen; it is, in fact, a lovely evening for a party. Would you care to take a stroll with me?"

"…_to the slag heap?" Katniss mentally finished for her._

"Um, sure."

"Come now, Ms. Everdeen; surely you can do better than that. And remember to keep that smile on! At this rate, you are never going to find yourself a husband."

"_So, uh…your hair. I really like your hair. It's…nice."_

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I've been too preoccupied with survival and the idea of my 12-year-old brother going off to war to worry about snaring a husband."

The deafening silence smothered Katniss as she realized that she had said the wrong response out loud.

"Ms. Everdeen! I am trying my hardest to help you. I am all that stands between you and the caelebs, especially if you do not learn to control that unladylike mouth of yours. Besides, we do not even know if-"

"That's what I said to my father, too. That we didn't know for sure. Well, we knew for sure the next week—and the next month, when he didn't come home at all."

The bell rang, and Katniss soundlessly pivoted in the direction of the door and stalked away before she could give any more treasonous speeches that could get her turned into an Avox.

* * *

Gale removed the dead rabbit from the twitch-up snare, satisfaction at the plumpness of the rabbit flitting across his face as he placed the rabbit in his game bag. The winter had been as hard as winters always were in District 12, but the warmer May weather had certainly increased the quality of the prey he was catching. Catnip knew her way around a snare; her father had taught her the same way that his father had taught him. While Catnip was proficient with snares, she still got the majority of her kills with her father's bow.

Thoughts of Catnip filled Gale's mind as they so often did these days; he hated having to hide the way he felt, but he was not a snare man for nothing. In order to set up a snare, Gale first had to scout the area for the best place to put a snare. He had to find a sapling with enough bend in it to provide enough force for the snare without snapping the limb or uprooting the stake. Perhaps most importantly, he had to find an area that created a natural funnel that would guide the prey into the snare by process of elimination.

_Catnip is not as good with snares as I am, not due to lack of skill, but because her hunting style is not suitable for snaring. She is reactionary, killing what is right in front of her. If she sees a squirrel running along the ground, she'll shoot it through the eye. Fresh deer tracks alert her to the presence of potential prey, so she silently stalks the deer and kills it at the end. She sees a flock of birds taking flight, so she shoots as many as she can before they're out of range. She loves that bow not only because it was her father's, but because it allows her to survive in the moment without needing to have any long-term plans._

Gale carefully examined all the parts of his snare, making sure that nothing had worn out or was in danger of failing when triggered. This particular snare was his most consistently productive due to the natural funnel that the piled-up brush and branches created. Any prey that walked this way would have only one choice if it wanted to quickly and easily get through the brush, and that way was through Gale's nearly invisible snare.

_Even though Catnip is only 16 now, she'll be 18 and almost 19 before she knows it. Knowing Catnip like I do, I know she'll put off making any kind of marriage decision until she absolutely has to, especially since she's convinced herself that she is never going to fall in love, get married, or have children. She's still trying to fool herself into believing that she can get out of paying the caelebs and that she'll somehow magically find a way to support the three members of her family in addition to paying this—at least for Seam women—expensive tax. If I were to tell Catnip that I love her, that I've loved her for a while now, all I'll do is scare her away from the snare. But if I let the inevitable natural funnel of future events work in my favor, I can wait until the time is right and I can propose marriage as a friend. Surely when she thinks about being married to me versus the alternative…_

The snare was not hard to reset, so Gale rejoined the notches and concealed the loop so that no animal would be likely to notice its presence. He always made sure that his snares were made so that undesirable animals were not caught in them; he rarely made a mistake in that regard. His goal was always to catch the right animal under the right circumstances and to do no harm to the rest—although if harm came to them in the course of his survival, he was not going to lose any sleep over them.

Gale smiled fondly as he thought of memories of his friendship with Catnip. Some might feel that his snare analogy was bad, that he wanted to trap Catnip so he could possess her. Of course, being Seam, he was used to being judged and misunderstood by the ignorant.

_I would never try to cage or imprison Catnip. She shouldn't have to marry anyone she doesn't want to, and if there were a way I could fight back and make it so she never had to marry if she didn't want to, I would. No, by marrying Catnip, I wouldn't be trapping her; I'd be freeing her to be herself. Nobody understands Catnip like I do, and no other man has the guts to approach her fire. They're all scared of her, and none of them would be able to sneak up on her like I could, like I will. Catnip is too wary a hunter, too much of a woman for those little boys. Only I see her as she truly is, and only I could ever make her happy. Once she's married to me, she'll fall in love with me, and children will inevitably come after…_

The sound of stomping feet interrupted his thoughts; the lovely subject of his musings kicked and cursed her way through the forest, making unusually loud noises for one who was normally so quiet in the woods. As his fire girl ranted about Effie Trinket and the caelebs and how she was never going to fall in love and get married and have children, Gale couldn't help but smile—but only on the inside, because he knew her father had trained her well. This realization sparked an idea, and before he knew it, he and Catnip were sparring using the basic techniques her father had taught her before he'd gone off to war years ago. And if Gale enjoyed the contact drills a little too much, who was going to judge him for it?

* * *

Katniss made her way to the square with the rest of the family, dread pooling in her stomach. Her mother had braided Katniss's hair and had laid out a blue dress that Katniss recognized as being from her mother's Merchant years. Sage was wearing his least-worn outfit and his hair was slicked back and firmly under control, unlike his shirttail, which was, as usual, untucked in the back. Attendance at the square for mandatory viewing was strongly encouraged for all District 12 residents and was thus announced three days in advance, so the Everdeens knew they had to attend even if they didn't want to.

_Okay, so Sage wanted to; I'd rather grieve in private._

Gale's large frame stood out even in a crowd as large as this one, and all of his family was with him. With movements so familiar they were almost involuntary, Katniss walked over and stood next to Gale, Sage stood next to Rory, and Mrs. Everdeen stood next to Hazelle. With their similar coloring and features, Katniss could have easily blended in as a Hawthorne.

_Of course, nobody who ever knew my father would fail to recognize me as his daughter._

Nervous chatter skittered all around Katniss, but she and Gale faced this situation with stony masks of silence. The large projector screens whirred to life, silencing the crowd. The hated visage of President Snow appeared on the screen and began reading the Treaty of the Treason. Katniss tuned out most of the reading as she pretty much knew the treaty by heart, but a few sections made her flinch.

"…as a result of their rebellion, the men of Panem will be required to surrender one male tribute 12 years of age or older whenever Panem is threatened…and through these men's courageous sacrifices, the districts will find redemption…No man from the Capitol ever need risk life and limb for Panem because of their loyalty to the nation…"

Snow finally finished his reading and did not mince words about the purpose of the mandatory viewing.

"Residents of Panem, I regret to inform you that the North is once again threating us with invasion. As a result of this pointless and bloodthirsty aggression, all family units are to submit one male tribute 12 years of age or older in two weeks' time. As is always the case, each traditional family unit must send one male tribute, and a man becomes his own family unit when he reaches 19 years of age. One male may volunteer for another male from a different family with the consent of both parents, and adopted males count towards the household in which they currently reside. Now please return to your residences and make this momentous decision. May the odds be ever in your favor."

_I volunteer!_ Katniss wanted to scream. _I volunteer as a tribute!_

No words escaped her lips, though, and a strong arm wound its way around her shoulders and pulled her close. She looked up into Gale's anguished eyes, suddenly realizing what this announcement meant for him as head of his house. Katniss tried to feel guilty for not thinking about Gale going off to war sooner, but as always, only one thought consumed her mind.

_Sage. What can I…I am going to make this right, Sage. _

"I am going to make this right, Sage," Katniss said, wrenching out of Gale's grasp and whirling around to grab Sage's shoulders. "Do you understand me, Sage? I promise I am going to make this right. I swear."

Unable to bear the presence of other people any longer, Katniss ran for home so she could get out of her dress; she needed to go to her woods to work out a plan. She didn't care about risks or rules or anything but keeping Sage safe no matter what.

* * *

Trigger Warning: Verbal and physical abuse courtesy of Mrs. Mellark

Peeta had not been surprised at Snow's announcement; everyone had known that the mandatory viewing had been just a formality produced more with the aim of dispensing Capitol propaganda than actually giving anyone information. Still, nothing could have prepared Peeta for those awful words about going to war, especially because he knew there was a good chance he was going to lose two members of his family rather than one.

_My oldest brother, Bran, will have to go as he is over 19 and married,_ Peeta thought as he tried to walk back to the bakery through the huge crowd gathered in the square._ Dad will go as head of our house, leaving Mother, Rye, and I to run the bakery. The last war nearly destroyed Dad, and Mom…_

The memory of what his father had been like after he had returned from the last war remained with Peeta; the war had broken Peeta's father, and his mother had been unable to cope with her husband's nightmares, irrational bouts of fear and nervousness, and inability to make fast decisions. She had taken her anger and frustration out on her sons, with Peeta getting the worst of the abuse due to his younger age and smaller size. He well remembered the first time his mother had beaten him; he had not regretted his actions that night while lying in bed, and he had never regretted them since.

_An air of grief and sadness permeated District 12—and all of Panem, Peeta suspected—due to the absence of so many men and boys who had not come back from Snow's latest war against the North. Peeta was only 11, but he understood that many men would never return to 12 and that many families were going to have to adjust to the personal and financial loss of fathers and sons, of brothers and uncles. The Capitol gave the dead soldiers' families monthly allotments of grain and oil called tesserae, but from what Peeta had heard around town and at school, the low quality and quantity of the food made it insufficient for feeding most families._

_His own father had been fortunate enough to return from the war, although the screams and thumps that frequently came from his parents' bedroom at night made him question exactly how lucky his father was. For all of his father's problems, however, the Mellarks still had food on the table, clothes on their backs, and a roof that housed their home and thriving business. Compared to many other families in District 12,the Mellarks were quite fortunate indeed._

_The veterans had returned to their districts as autumn neared its end, and all of the problems created by the war were exacerbated by the worst winter in even the old-timers' memories. Even the most skilled hunters had not been able to find much game or gather many wild fruits or vegetables—or so Peeta had overheard a boy a couple of years older than him say to Father early one morning as he explained the lack of squirrels to trade for bread. His father, being the kind-hearted man that he still was in spite of all the war had done to him, still offered him a loaf, but the proud boy had refused such blatant charity._

_A few days later, a bone-chilling, torrential rain fell, bathing the entire district in icy misery. The dampness from the downpour seemed to leech any thoughts or feelings of happiness from everyone, including Peeta's mother. Not that Peeta's mother needed an excuse to be angry, but the rain and the resulting lack of customers only worsened his mother's mood. As if his thoughts about his mother had summoned her, he heard her screeching at some "Seam brat" for daring to try to find food in their garbage. _

_Peeta would often wonder later if some sort of providence or fate had led him to look out the window that overlooked the pig pen and apple tree at just the right moment, but once he saw Katniss Everdeen starving to death beneath that tree, all he could think about was saving her somehow. He had been a goner for Katniss since he had heard her sing the Valley Song in school years ago, and he knew he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't do something. _

_The smell of nearly-finished bread registered in the back of his brain—and brought to mind a memory from his Uncle Wheaton's toasting. Peeta remembered the smell of lightly-burning bread as his uncle and soon-to-be aunt held pieces of toast near their fireplace in District 12's traditional marriage ceremony. He knew his mother would yell at him a lot if he had a sort of toasting of his own, but he knew that Katniss's death would hurt far worse than any punishment his mother could carry out._

_He grasped two loaves in his hands and dropped them into the fire with a small smile on his lips that he quickly straightened out as he heard his mother's screeches. Peeta quickly pulled the loaves out of the fire before they could burn too severely, heedless of the pain the action caused to his hands. His mother ranted and raved about feeding the bread to the pigs and how useless Peeta was and how he should have been a girl anyway; when the rolling pin made contact with his face, he reeled back in shock at the unfamiliar sensation, but pictured the smile that would grace Katniss's face when he held the loaves out to her._

_His father once told him that one of his commanders had said that no plan ever survives contact with the enemy, and Peeta's mother insisted on watching her son feed the first chunks of bread to the pigs. Peeta deliberately ripped off the most severely burned pieces of bread in hopes of being able to give the best of the loaves to Katniss; fortunately, Peeta's mother turned away and left him alone eventually. _

_Right before he was prepared to turn towards Katniss, Peeta remembered the Seam boy who had refused his father's charity. Peeta wanted so badly to gently hand Katniss the loaves, but he knew that she, like the boy, would likely turn away from charity. So he threw the loaves at her feet and walked away, even though he did not want to do so. _

_A few days later, a thin but alive Katniss turned up bright and early at the bakery's back door with squirrels for trade, and Peeta's bruises hurt a little less. Peeta's mother, however, continued to abuse him when she was angry or irritated, which happened quite frequently. While he would often contemplate fighting back the next time his mother hit him, he could never bring himself to raise a hand to his own mother. His father hated the abuse his wife heaped on their youngest son, but the war had taken away his father's ability to deal with conflict in any other way than running away._

Peeta's memories came to a halt as he realized that his feet had led him to the bakery without his mind paying attention to where he was going. The familiar sound of his mother yelling at his father assaulted his ears as he walked through the door; to Peeta's great surprise, his father actually yelled back at his mother. Morbidly intrigued by what his mother could possibly have said to actually make his father yell back at her, Peeta cautiously crept up to the door.

"Dammit, Macella!" Peeta's father yelled.

Peeta's eyes widened; he'd rarely heard his father call his mother by her first name, much less curse at her.

"You know I'm right, Barley!" Peeta's mother yelled back. "How long do you think you would last this time? You can't even bring yourself to discipline your own sons, much less kill someone else's. What are the odds that you could even make it through basic training?"

"So your solution would be to send one of our sons instead?"

Peeta's blue eyes widened as his mouth gaped open; he knew exactly who his mother would want to send.

"It's not like we can't run the bakery without them; in fact, we could probably get more done with one less moron ruining things. Besides, he was always supposed to be a girl anyway."

"What the hell, Mom?!" Rye yelled, pushing off from the doorframe against which he'd been leaning. "There's no way I'm going to let you send Peet into—"

"And what are you going to do about it, Rye?" their mother said, stalking up to him. "You're only 18. You're not a man yet. Not that you're ever likely to truly be a man, anyway, but age-wise, you still have a year to go. As your parents, we would have to sign off on your going to war in your father's place. Needless to say, that's not going to happen."

"But you're willing to send your youngest son into battle? If I'm not a man at 18, there's no way in hell Peet's a man at only 16. Let me go. I volunteer—"

Macella Mellark's smack echoed around the room, shocking everyone into silence.

"That's always your answer to everything, isn't it?" Rye said after a long pause, words dripping with contempt. "For too long, I've stood silently by while you abused Peet in the hope that you would change someday, that you'd go back to being our mother again. I know that nothing I say today will change anything; you're going to send Peeta off to war out of some twisted expectation that doing so will somehow make all your bitterness and resentment go away, and Dad's going to let it happen because he's too weak to stand up to you. But I hate you for what you've done today and will never forgive you. And if you ever lay a hand on either of us again, the result won't be the same as it's always been."

Rye Mellark spun on his heel and stalked out the door, and Peeta followed a few seconds later. He was still reeling in shock at the events of the past several minutes and knew he had to walk to clear his head. An image of Katniss Everdeen's stricken face upon hearing about the reaping came to him again, and he knew his current expression would have complemented Katniss's perfectly.

* * *

"And just how are you going to do that?" Mrs. Everdeen asked.

"I'll cut my hair short, bind my breasts, talk low…it's just fooling a few stupid Peacekeepers."

"And how long do you think that will work? How far do you expect to get?"

"Far enough to make sure Sage never has to go into combat."

"How are you going to get past the physical?"

"The what?"

Katniss's mother sat down at the table, weariness and resignation in her entire posture. She rested her head in her hands before looking at Katniss and hoping that what she would say next would help her stubborn daughter understand why she couldn't do what she was planning.

_Although "planning" is a charitable way of putting it…_

"A physical," she repeated. "Your father told me about some of the things he'd had to do over his years in the army, and he told me once about something called a 'physical.' Apparently, you have to take off all your clothes, submit to an examination, and give a little blood so you can be identified. Katniss, I know you want to protect Sage—we both do—but you are not the first person—the first woman—to want to try such a thing."

"Yeah, Mom, I've heard the stories, but…"

"They're not just stories, Katniss. My best friend…when we were your age, she wanted to volunteer for her little brother, too. Not only was he younger than her, but he also had a bad leg. She knew he would be lucky to make it through basic training, let alone combat, so she did all of those things you talked about."

"So what happened, Mom?" Katniss asked, sitting down at the table near her mother.

_But with her hands planted firmly on the table so she can spring up and pounce on me if I anger her again…_

"What we all expected to happen. She actually made a fairly convincing boy at first glance, and I'm not exactly sure what she did that gave her away…perhaps she actually got away with pretending to be a boy until her physical. Regardless, she never would have made it past the physical because she was obviously not a man underneath the clothes—or in her DNA, which would have identified her as 'Donner, Maysilee' rather than 'Donner. Marcus.'"

"I figured from your tone that she got caught; what actually _happened_?"

"What we all expected to happen," Mrs. Everdeen repeated, her voice heavy with sadness. "President Snow wanted to make an example of her, so he killed Maysilee, her family, and, to make a larger point, her boyfriend's family, leaving only the boyfriend behind."

_And there she goes again…_

Katniss sprang to her feet, anger pulsing off her in waves.

_She is angry at Snow for killing my best friend's whole family and her boyfriend's besides. She is angry at Snow for killing her and Gale's fathers in one of his worthless wars. She is angry at Snow for endangering Sage and Gale and…_

"I'm sorry—truly sorry—about your friend, Mom. But I can't stay here while Sage goes off to war and comes home in a box—if we're lucky."

"But he's a skilled healer. Maybe he won't be sent into combat."

"True. If he's lucky, he'll get made into a combat medic and will be expected to roam the battlefield looking for injured soldiers with nothing to defend himself with. Not that he'd likely be able to defend himself anyway; he can't even stand to watch me skin squirrels. He's nothing like me, and that's why he has to stay here with you."

"But if you get caught, Sage will be in danger."

"If Sage goes off to war, he's probably going to die, anyway. How many 12-year-olds do you know who have returned from war?"

"We could all die—"

"—either way," Katniss finished. "Look, Mom. In this terrible world Snow has created, we all stand a good chance of dying. Sage will likely die in war if he goes; if I don't die in war or from being caught trying to go to war, I'll likely die young in the mines. And you…if Sage dies, you're going to disappear again. You'll just go away into your mind again and I won't be able to reach you because I'm not Sage. You need her to survive, Mom. We both do. So let me go, Mom. I'll keep my head down, my voice down; I'll fool them all somehow. I'll come up with something like I always do. This is what Dad trained me for. You know it is."

"But who will feed us if you and Gale both go off to war?"

"We've been training Rory and Vick to hunt and trap, and they're not bad. Sage is an excellent gatherer; I'd swear the plants bloom up right in front of him when they sense him walking towards them. The bottom line is that one of us is likely to die no matter what happens because this is how Snow wants things to be. He wants to split families against one another from within, yet he forces families to stay together or pay the price—especially if you're a woman. If you're a man, you have the lucky privilege of dying in one of Snow's wars—and it's pretty much the worst-kept secret in all of Panem that Snow's always the aggressor rather than the North. No, Mom; I'm going to war because you need one of us in order to survive emotionally, and that person isn't me."

"That's not true, Katniss!" Sage said from the doorway, apparently finished tending Lady. "Mom, tell her it's not true!"

_Oh, Arch; I miss you so much right now. You'd call me your "Lovely Lavender" and would know exactly how to deal with your daughter. You always did, and I never have…_

"Mom! You can't let her go! I could learn to fight; I swear I can learn!"

"No, Little Duck," Katniss told Sage, embracing her brother. "I'm going to protect you like I always have, like Dad taught me to do."

"Don't you think I'm a little too old for that nickname? It's not very manly."

"I'll stop calling you 'Little Duck' when you learn to properly tuck in your shirt tail."

"Yes, Ms. Trinket," Sage said in Effie's exaggerated Capitol accent.

"You'll never be able to make this work," Mrs. Everdeen said, trying one more time to dissuade Katniss from what she recognized as the inevitable.

"I will," Katniss said firmly. "I will make this work. I'll disguise myself as a man, get Gale to watch my back, fight like Dad taught me to, and then come home and never have to leave again. I'll do what's necessary, but you'll have to fight, too, Mom. Do you hear me? I'm not going to be the only one fighting. You can't let yourself go away again; I won't be here to pull you out this time. And you, Sage; you'll have to gather more, okay? You and Mom will be fine, and I know the Hawthornes won't let you starve."

Mrs. Everdeen nodded her head to say she understood, but her son wrapped his arms around Katniss and looked her in the eye.

_When did he grow so tall?_

"But you have to stay strong, too. You're so fast and brave. Maybe you can be a Victor, or even a Mentor."

"I don't care about those things, Little Duck. All I care about is making it home to you, Mom, and District 12…but the odds aren't exactly in my favor, are they?"

"I don't care about those things either, Katniss. You will try to come home, though, won't you? Really, really try?"

"Really, really try," Katniss replied solemnly. "I swear it."

Mrs. Everdeen's shoulders slumped, and she knew that nothing she or Sage said would keep Katniss from volunteering for nearly certain death. When Katniss's mind was made up, nobody but her father—and even he had, on occasion, failed—could persuade her to change her mind.

_She will get caught, and we will likely all die. Of course, had Sage gone off to war and died, the rest of us…That's why I'll not try to stop her: Because I know she is more like me than she thinks, and that without Sage…_

* * *

Haymitch Abernathy staggered away from the Everdeens' cracked window in case anybody happened to be watching. Not that anyone was likely to be looking out of their windows on a night like tonight, and anyone who did happen to see him stumbling in the street would see what they always saw when he was nearby: Mentor Haymitch Abernathy, the drunken, pathetic Victor who tried to drown his sorrows in drink and who always had a scowl and a sarcastic remark for anyone who tried to talk to him.

He saw a shadow sitting on a nearby porch and took a pull from his bottle of white liquor, weaving a bit more than was necessary for good measure. While he could not honestly say that his drunkenness was all an act, he had learned long ago that people tended to overlook and underestimate the drunk buffoon—which was exactly how he wanted people to see him.

When he had begun his walk back to Victor's Village after the mandatory viewing, he had not planned on revisiting the place where he had grown up. The Capitol had changed his physical features, insisting that he looked better as a blond-haired, blue-eyed Merchant type, but that night, Haymitch had felt the desperate need to return to his roots. He had walked aimlessly down the street, bottle in hand, largely ignoring the sounds of sorrow and anger he had heard through the thin walls of the Seam houses.

_Until I heard her voice._

Haymitch reached the outskirts of the Seam and slipped behind the last row of houses, tucking his bottle safely in his jacket. He expertly slipped under the fence, pleasantly surprised Snow hadn't ordered it turned on immediately to thwart potential deserters after revealing the good news to all of Panem. His gait evened out as he entered the woods; he felt the same relaxed tension he always felt when he knew he was illegally free.

_The girl does this all the time, every day. I knew her father; we were friends growing up in the Seam. He was a good soldier, loyal to the end to his men if not entirely to his country. At first, I thought the girl sounded like any other whiny teenager crying about the unfairness of it all. I get it, Sweetheart, I really do. But then…_

The memory of the way he had seen Katniss's chin raise and eyes blaze through the window had unnerved and excited him for reasons he could not identify. He could almost see Finnick trying to identify those reasons in some perverted way, but Haymitch knew that what he had seen in the girl had had nothing to do with sex.

_Well, at least not for me. As far as some of those boys her age, especially that oldest Hawthorne…Now there's someone I'd love to have on our side. If the girl could provide the spark, then maybe that boy could fan the flames into a blaze that would consume all of Panem. Or maybe he would provide too much fire and we'd all burn, but at least the Capitol would burn with us…_

Haymitch's ponderings ended as he reached a large rock that looked out over a lovely valley below. Of course, he couldn't see much of anything in the darkness, but the moon provided enough light for him to at least know where he was.

_Well, the moon and lots of experience sneaking around in the dark._

Haymitch pulled out a flat, tablet-like device and stared at it for a few moments. He knew that convincing the others was going to take some doing, especially since they would likely not be inclined to see behind the girl's scowl and brusque manner at first. But he also knew one other important thing, the one factor that was likely to shift the odds in his favor.

_We're desperate; they're desperate. I wasn't impressed at first, either; it wasn't until she slammed her hands down on the table and started talking about Snow, her sister, and survival. I've stayed alive this long because I've relied on my instincts, and right now, they're telling me…_

Decision made, Haymitch laid his right hand flat against the screen of the device. The whirring sound it made told him the device was scanning his handprint; the muted chime told him that he had been identified as "Abernathy, Haymitch." He typed in several passwords and seemingly random combinations of numbers and symbols before being rewarded with a different chime that told him he was hopefully being connected to his contact.

"Shakespeare?" he said into the screen.

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players," a masculine voice responded.

Haymitch rolled his eyes as his contact allowed an unnecessarily long and overly dramatic pause to stretch out into the darkness.

"Canary?" the voice finally said.

"I get so dizzy even walking in a straight line," Haymitch said impatiently.

He derived a perverse sense of satisfaction as he let a pause of his own draw out before cutting straight to the point.

"I think I've found her, Shakespeare. A girl worth fighting for."

* * *

A/N:

The caelebs tax derives from the ancient Roman concept of the _Lex Papia Poppaea_, which was made to strengthen marriage and boost the population. While "caelebs" should be pronounced "ˈkai-leps" in proper terms, as with many words, it evolved in general pronunciation to sound more phonetic; citizens of Panem would pronounce it "Calebs."

Katniss's response to Effie is a quote from "Miss Congeniality" by Miss Rhode Island.

For more about snares, go here and here.

"Shakespeare" stands, of course, for playwright William Shakespeare, and the quote is from "As You Like it." "Canary" and the quote are from the Police song "Canary in a Coalmine"; how this song is known in Panem is up to the reader to decide.


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss was not surprised that she had slept so poorly the night before, but she _was_ surprised to see Haymitch Abernathy sitting on her rock in the early dawn light. Instinctively freezing like prey contemplating flight, Katniss decided to creep soundlessly away like she had done with other predators she had met in the woods. Her soft pivot was soundless to Katniss, but Haymitch immediately turned towards the tree behind which she was standing and looked directly at her less than ideal hiding place.

_How did he hear me? Not even Gale can hear me…_

"Are you gonna come out, sweetheart, or are you gonna stand behind that tree forever?"

Scowling, Katniss crept from her hiding place and walked tentatively towards the rock and the strange Mentor. She had no idea what his game was, but Mentor Abernathy was not the kind of man on which you turned your back—especially when he was waiting at her and Gale's secret rock and looking remarkably sober.

"Katniss gotcher tongue?"

Katniss rolled her eyes.

_Like I've never heard that one…_

"Effie Trinket would be appalled at your rudeness, sweetheart. 'Such a complete and utter lack of decorum shown to a Mentor. Absolutely shameful. You'll be a perpetual caelebs spinster with high taxes and no husband…'"

"What are you doing here?"

"She speaks!"

"Why were you waiting for me?"

"Who says I was waiting for you, sweetheart? Do men normally meet you here? Should I be worried about interruptions?"

Katniss speared Haymitch with her fiercest glare, but to her dismay, Haymitch only grinned wider.

"I don't have time for this crap. I've got a family to feed."

She whirled around to leave, but all of her froze at Haymitch's next words.

"That's right, sweetheart; your _family._ The family you are risking while trying to save."

An arrow was nocked on the string of her bow in an instant, ready to end the threat this Mentor obviously posed to her and her family.

"Wait a minute, sweetheart. Don't you ever think about anything you do before you do it? And you actually thought you had the ability to fool all of Panem. That stupid impulsiveness of yours will get you and yours killed if you don't have someone to help you along the way."

"Someone like who?" Katniss asked, not lowering her ready bow.

"Someone like me—assuming I'm alive by the end of this conversation."

"What can you do for me? And why would you want to help me?"

"Well, for starters, I can set you up with a better disguise than whatever sorry get-up you were planning on wearing—assuming you've actually planned anything at all."

"Of course I've planned…a little."

"Right, sweetheart. You were going to hack off your hair, bind up your boobies, hope no one noticed you bleeding once a month, and, what? Perform a striptease to distract the doc giving the physical? That's a great plan."

"Okay, so I hadn't worked out all of the details yet. Why do you care anyway?"

"Because I'm such a caring man, of course. I'm just overflowing with the milk of human kindness—or I would be, if the milk of human kindness were white liquor. Basically, because I can help you, sweetheart."

Katniss lowered the bow slightly, stepping forward.

"You still haven't said what, exactly you can do for me. Or why."

"I already told you I can get you a good disguise. In the Capitol, they make nearly-full-body suits that can make a woman look like a man to the point of being able to bleed fake blood and simulate fake bruising. These suits have the full works—hair where it's supposed to be, no boobies where they're not supposed to be, working…equipment."

Katniss's brows furrowed in confusion until she realized what Haymitch meant; then she blushed and scowled.

"That's a pretty dark blush for someone who lives with a brother and helps Lavender treat wounded miners."

"I haven't spent much time analyzing that sort of thing."

"Well, sweetheart, we're going to have to change that. If you are going to imitate a man, you gotta understand how a man walks, talks, acts, and thinks. You're gonna hafta put aside your feminine objections to sex jokes, slobbiness, and butt-slapping. You're gonna need to learn to walk like a man, talk like a man, punch like a man, and curse like a man. And how to pee standing up; that's very important."

The realities of what Haymitch was talking about started to settle in; Katniss struggled to remain focused.

"So what about the other issues? The suit will make me look like a man, but what about my blood? My identity? My…monthly problem?"

"I don't want to get into the details right now, but the suit allows for the insertion of blood underneath its fake skin. What we'll do is make blood, assign it to your new identity, and replace it as necessary. As for those other issues, the Capitol has shots and pills to take care of those problems."

"And you can get me those Capitol things? How?"

"I'm a Mentor, sweetheart. We have a bit more…latitude in these situations. The Capitol likes to pretend that we belong to them, so that often means introducing us to elements of their lifestyles, of trying to remake us in their own twisted images…but their tastes serve our purpose here, so more power to 'em."

_The Capitol already has all the power; that's the problem. And that's why I don't really have a choice, even though I don't understand…_

"Why? Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"

Haymitch smiled coldly, and Katniss knew that she was looking at Mentor Abernathy for the first time.

"Revenge."

Katniss waited for more of an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Given her own taciturn nature, Katniss respected that—and, of course, she was desperate. So she shrugged, lowered her bow, and held out her hand.

"That's as good a reason as any."

As they clasped hands and stared each other down, Katniss suddenly realized that Haymitch had never explicitly confessed to eavesdropping on her conversation with her family and that she had never required such a confession to understand his meaning entirely. And she finally began to appreciate just what Haymitch Abernathy could do for her. She turned around to leave, but Haymitch's voice stopped her.

"If you're still interested, come by my place around noon in 2 days with a bucket of fresh-picked strawberries. I've developed a sudden craving."

Katniss did not realize just how much of this plan Haymitch had kept her in the dark about until she was well into her morning hunt.

* * *

"I just love the pitter-patter of little stylist feet," Haymitch groused.

Cinna smiled patiently, well accustomed to both the noise of his prep team and Haymitch's frequent complaining. He had been Haymitch's stylist for several years now and no longer flinched at the Mentor's abrasive manner. In fact, Cinna had come to value the man's friendship over the past couple of years and could thus tell that Haymitch was anxious despite all his blustering.

A knock sounded at the door, and Haymitch loudly cursed his enforced captivity while sitting on a chair as the stylists worked on him. He tried to stand up, but one of the stylists laughed shrilly and pushed him back down.

"Do you want me to get that, Mentor?" Cinna asked, a sparkle in his brown eyes.

"Hopefully those are the strawberries; them and the promise of liquor are all that's keeping me from committing mass murder."

Cinna strode to the door and opened it, smiling at the uncertain scowl on the face of the teenage girl holding a bucket of strawberries. He smiled at her and gestured her in; she crept in reluctantly as if she were a forest animal ready to bolt at the smallest sign of danger. A couple of members from the prep team saw the strawberries and squealed, descending on the young girl like muttations on an unwatchful soldier.

The change in the girl's posture was instant and striking. Her chin came up, her eyes blazed, and she held the bucket of strawberries protectively to her breast. The scowl on her face was replaced by a fiery glare, and her words were hard and cold.

"These are Mentor Abernathy's strawberries. I don't think he'd appreciate you eating them for him."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, girl," one of the stylists said. "Mitchie loves us and would never want us to go hungry in this barbaric place."

Cinna inwardly winced at his coworker's insensitivity but had to admire the girl's poise. She did not waste many words, but firmly refused to surrender the strawberries to anyone but Haymitch. Right on cue, Cinna heard a colorful stream of swear words emanate from the room he'd just left. Haymitch came barreling through the door and greedily seized the bucket of strawberries.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he slurred. "Money's on the table through that door; clear yourself a space and rest for a bit if you want. In fact, I wouldn't mind stepping in here for a few seconds myself. I can hardly hear myself think."

Haymitch suddenly raised a finger to his lips and then withdrew it, using both hands to count up to ten. He waited a couple more seconds before looking at Cinna and the girl and gesturing them to sit down in the 2 chairs seated around a cluttered table on which he placed the bucket of strawberries.

"You have one hour of Capitol silence; make the most of it."

With that, Haymitch left the room, presumably to return to his prep team. Cinna silently observed the girl Haymitch had recommended as a possible candidate for what their people had in mind, trying to see exactly what Haymitch had seen in her. He had seen her fire, but it was not like he and Haymitch had never seen fiery young women before.

"I'm sorry about my prep team," Cinna began. "How horrible we must all seem to you."

Katniss awkwardly fidgeted, the fire from several minutes ago all but extinguished. Now she looked like a nervous 16-year-old girl who felt in over her head.

_And she is, more than she knows…_

"No matter," Cinna said into the silence. "Let's get started. Please stand up so I can measure you for—Haymitch told you about the suit, right?"

"He told me enough. He said that it'll make me look like a man and that it's very…realistic."

Cinna smiled at the girl's hesitation; such innocence was refreshing.

"Don't worry about that yet; let's just get you measured so we can make sure everything fits properly. It's my job to make you look like a teenage boy, and it would not do for your muscles to fall off during training or for your hairy feet to slide around."

Katniss flashed a small smile, and Cinna thrilled at the victory. Haymitch had his work cut out for him, but he understood—at least to an extent—what Haymitch saw in the girl. He wordlessly pulled out a wand-like device with a fat handle at the end; the trepidation on Katniss's face was easy to read.

"This is a body scanner that will capture your size and shape so that I will be able to work with your body without having you physically present."

"Will that work with all my clothes on, or do you need me to take them off?"

Cinna admired Katniss's forthrightness and hoped it meant she was warming up to him a little bit.

"I was going to ask for you to take your clothes off next so I could get a base scan to ensure a perfect fit of the suit, but I wanted a clothed scan first so I could better judge how fabric rests on your frame."

Katniss nodded and stripped off her clothes without complaint once Cinna indicated it was time for her to do so. He was surprised at how willing she was to do such a thing given her earlier reticence in regards to talking about the anatomy of the suit. Her posture was closed off but grudgingly permissive, so perhaps she disliked the proceedings more than she let on.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Katniss asked.

"Yes; with these scans, I'll be able to bring up a three-dimensional rendering of your form and will be able to tailor clothes to fit you that way. I don't normally like to work with these scanners as I prefer the personal touch, but these are unique circumstances."

Katniss said nothing, so Cinna filled the silence as Katniss pulled on her clothes.

"What you're doing is very brave."

Katniss shrugged.

"I don't feel brave; I'm just doing what's necessary."

"Some of the greatest feats of bravery are accomplished by people just doing their jobs, doing what they think is necessary."

_Plutarch isn't going to like her at first; he's always wanted a well-spoken woman who will wow Panem with her words. I think Katniss could do so if given the chance…_

"Maybe. I'm not planning on being really brave, though; I just want to go to war, do my job, and maybe come back alive at the end. I don't want anyone to notice me."

Cinna smiled softly.

"I will do my best, Katniss, but if someone threatens your strawberries—or anything else you consider your responsibility—and the cameras catch your reaction, everybody is going to notice you."

"I'll have to make sure to hide my strawberries, then."

"You could always stuff them down your suit, although I wouldn't be able to guarantee a perfect fit with the addition of organic padding."

"Then I could have strawberry jelly mixed with sweat to go on my delicious tesserae bread. Maybe military life won't be so bad after all."

_See? She does have a sense of humor. She just needs someone to draw her out a bit._

"We still have a bit of time before our hour is up, so do you have any questions about the suit?"

"When will you have it ready? I'm supposed to be on the train for training in about a week and a half, so I know I'll need to get used to moving in it before then."

"We're going to be back here in 2 days to deliver Haymitch's new wardrobe and to do some more cosmetic work. We'll bring all of your supplies as well; Haymitch will be responsible for teaching you how to use the suit, but we'll probably do an initial fitting here where we can hear ourselves think—unless, of course, Haymitch thinks even unveiling the suit here would be too large a risk."

"How much of my body will it cover? Will I even have a different face?"

"We didn't want to use the completely full-body suit since those tend to wear out more quickly than their nearly full-body suit counterparts. The suit itself will stop under your jaw, which will also have the helpful effect of enlarging your face a bit."

"Can these suits take a beating?"

"Definitely," Cinna said, smiling dryly. "That's pretty much what they were made for."

Katniss scowled in confusion, but shrugged Cinna's meaning off as unimportant.

"You will, however, have to change suits weekly as the blood will not pass a test after that time and the wear and tear will really start to show."

"How will I change suits?"

"We have a doctor on our side who will be assigned to take care of your company. He will also serve as the unit's head doctor, so you will have to meet him weekly to deal with your mental issues."

Katniss scowled at Cinna's description of the fake reason behind her suit-changing meetings but obviously decided to not waste any time protesting.

"Will I be able to use my hands and feet? Training and combat will be nearly impossible if I can't move well."

"These suits are designed with mobility in mind; their wearers often value the ability to grasp and wield things and to move quickly."

Cinna dreaded Katniss's next question, but they were saved by Haymitch opening the door. He held out his hands and counted backwards towards zero before loudly walking into the room.

"Finally; I don't understand how the hell a friggin' dye job can take so long…What are you still doing here, sweetheart?"

Katniss stared wide-eyed at Haymitch but managed to stammer out an excuse.

"I'm…sorry. I, um, must have fallen asleep at the table."

"That's alright, sweetheart; no harm done."

He pulled of the leaves and popped a strawberry in his mouth, smacking his lips in delight.

"Those are delicious strawberries; I don't think one bucket is gonna be enough. You know, sweetheart, it's not really fair that you have to walk all the way out to Victor's Village to deliver these strawberries."

"I don't mind, Mentor Abernathy—"

"Nonsense, girl. In a couple of days, I'll meet you at your place like before and we can eat our weight in strawberries. In fact, you might wanna tell that oldest Hawthorne boy that if he wants to make some extra cash, I wouldn't mind buying a bucket offa him, too."

Katniss's brow furrowed as she processed all of what Haymitch had told her, but Cinna was impressed that she appeared to know what he was talking about.

_Not that I actually understood any of that…_

"That's very generous of you, Mentor Abernathy. We'll have the strawberries ready two days from now around…noon?"

"Sounds good, sweetheart; I expect I'll need lots of plump, juicy strawberries and some liquid courage to make it through the next week or so."

As if on cue, Cinna's prep team burst through the door and descended on the bucket of strawberries. Cinna was able to escape the room without making any noise, but he still winced at the sound of Haymitch's swearing at the prep team.

_I don't know if Katniss will be the spark we're looking for, but I'm determined to help her protect her family._

* * *

Gale scowled as Katniss and Cinna headed into the lake shack, knowing she would be stripping naked before putting on the suit for the first time. Haymitch was staring out over the lake, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world.

_Yeah, well, Haymitch is a Mentor, after all. He might trust that Capitol hack, but I don't, at least not completely. Although I do have to admit he did better than I expected him to on the hike out here._

He and Katniss had waited for Haymitch at the rock around noon as Haymitch had cryptically told Katniss to do. Cinna had accompanied him to make sure the suit fit properly and that Katniss could move everything without losing the suit. According to Cinna, the biggest risks of suit failure were that the suit would separate at the neck or that the padding inside the suit would shift in unnatural shapes.

_Not that those Capitol freaks would necessarily know the difference…_

Granted, Gale had never spent meaningful time with many Capitol people, but he had seen enough recordings and images of them during various mandatory viewings to know how unnatural they were. Their…Remakes, they called them, made them look grotesque and distorted; as far as he was concerned, none of those Capitol flakes could hold a candle to his Katniss in her hunting gear.

Katniss slowly and carefully stepped out of the shack in her man suit, her face tight with concentration as she adjusted to the unfamiliar body shape and weight. A memory of he and Katniss walking on strapped-on tin cans they'd raided from some merchant trashcans came to mind, the heavy, jerky nature of Katniss's motions reminding him of those innocent children long ago. Katniss tripped over her hairy feet and landed in an undignified heap, glaring at Haymitch as he snickered.

"I'd like to see you do better, old man," she grumbled.

"Watch it, sweetheart; I'm all that stands between you and certain death."

"Effie Trinket said something similar about me and the caelebs when I failed to impress her with my man-snaring abilities. I was equally afraid."

"That woman has been a pain in my ass for years; she asked me to talk to 'those darling, backwards young men of District 12' about 'proper courtship rituals,' so I helped her out once; surprisingly, she never asked me back."

Katniss struggled to her feet, gaining better control of her movements the longer she wore the suit.

"Thanks for your help, Mentor," she grumbled.

"You gotta learn to work that thing on your own, sweetheart. A man's gotta be able to pick himself up off the ground when he falls down."

Gale barely contained his own laugh at Katniss's retort about Haymitch's "wonderful words of wisdom," but he knew from experience the painful results of being on Katniss's bad side. Besides, he was proud of Katniss; he wasn't quite sure when he had stopped mentally referring to her as "Catnip," but the boy standing awkwardly in front of him wasn't her.

"Right," Haymitch said, turning once again towards the lake. "Now that we've gotcha on your feet, we gotta get you used to really moving in this thing. You run one time around this lake as part of that training your old man taught you, right?"

Katniss nodded, squaring her masculine shoulders as she braced herself for Haymitch's next words.

"Then we're gonna walk all the way around it, and you're gonna be able to put one foot in front of the other several times without falling on your ass."

"I'll try my—"

Katniss tripped over her feet again, beginning what would turn into the least fun Gale had ever seen Katniss have at the lake. Haymitch was merciless, refusing to allow Katniss time to recover from her falls and telling her she had to move faster. Between falls, he quizzed her about her information and backstory, insisting that she had to be able to know it like the backs of her hairy hands.

"What's your name, tribute?"

"Fletcher Everdeen, Mentor Abernathy," Katniss said as she tripped over a rock.

Katniss struggled to her feet, Abernathy hovering over her.

"Come on, tribute; faster. You think some career's gonna wait this long for you to get back on your feet during sparring? Now who are your parents?"

"My parents were Archer and Lilly Everdeen; they died about a month ago from a sickness we all got."

"What type of sickness, tribute?"

"I don't know, Mentor. That month or two is nothing but a blur. I remember Mom looking ill one night, and the next thing I remember is waking up in bed feeling weak and tired. All I heard was silence all around me, and nobody answered my calls. When I opened the door and looked out, I saw three freshly-filled graves near the edge of our clearing."

"So if I go out to where you tell me you're from, I'll find an old house and three graves, right, tribute?"

"Yessir."

"Of course you will, tribute; they've been there for years. But what the Peacekeepers don't know won't hurt 'em."

Katniss was distracted from Haymitch's commentary by a large log she almost cleared. Unfortunately, she made it over the log but fell into a tree instead, scraping her arm. Gale winced in sympathy, knowing that scrapes like that often hurt worse than cuts. Katniss didn't seem to feel too much pain, though, so they continued their death march around the ever-growing lake.

"Why didn't you go to the authorities as soon as you realized what had happened, tribute?"

"I didn't have the strength. We live near the edge of District 12, and it took me awhile before I could even walk out to my family's graves. A friend came by to check on me, told me about the war, and helped me into town. I did what I had to do and legally became a member of Aunt Everdeen's family."

"How well do you know the Everdeens?"

"Well enough, but not that well. We kept to ourselves mostly; my parents didn't take too kindly to Dad's brother marrying a merchant. When I got old enough to make my own decisions, though, I made a bit of an effort to at least get to know my kin better."

"How do you feel about taking Sage Everdeen's place?"

"I'm glad to do it. Sage is a good boy and a skilled healer, but I am more suited to fighting. While Sage has the potential to become a great healer someday, I think I can be a good soldier now."

"You know, sweetheart, you're not that bad at this."

"That's practically a declaration of love coming from you."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head, Everdeen. We still have a long way to go—at least figuratively."

All four people sighed in relief when the Hanging Tree came into sight, signaling the end of Katniss's stumble around the lake. She had actually gotten decent at walking and had only stumbled a few times during the final few minutes. Gale smiled at the familiar look of determination on Katniss's face; he knew she'd be able to move in the suit perfectly come leaving time no matter how hard she had to work.

Cinna began examining Katniss's suit while she rested; he seemed satisfied with the way the suit was wearing so far and did not indicate that he saw any signs of separation or shifting padding. He suggested Katniss do some minor exercises next, so Haymitch set her to doing some of the basic stretches and exercises she'd done since she was a little girl.

Gale watched Katniss struggle through the exercises, although he was proud that she kept fighting her way through them in spite of the extra body weight. Her mind and body weren't the only ones that were confused; Katniss's face and braid on a boy's body scrambled his brain—and other things. Gale was in love with Katniss, and no Capitol-made boy suit would ever change that, but those broader shoulders and all that coarse hair…

_But those eyes! And the braid! And…Ugh!_

Katniss slowly twirled in a circle with her arms out, wobbling on her still-awkward feet but not falling down. The small smile on Katniss's face was priceless; Gale knew that the Capitol idiot who came to lecture all of the teenage boys every year about courtship and marriage would not likely consider her moves to be ballroom quality.

_That clueless Capitol pretty boy would probably faint from shock at my "courtship methods." He tried to train us for dinner parties and fancy restaurants, but he never said anything about cross-dressing twirling dances or helping the girl you love train for war. He—and many other guys—would not even understand why I'm encouraging the girl I want to marry to rush head-long into a dangerous situation. They, of course, don't know Katniss—or Fletcher—Everdeen and, if they do, would never be man enough to approach her, let alone get anywhere with her._

Katniss tossed a palm-sized stone up in the air, catching it most of the time before it hit the ground. She got to the point where she could toss it easily from one hand to the other and could catch it after tossing it a few feet up in the air. Her scowl never left her face during these exercises, and she only ever permitted herself small smiles after successes. _For Sage_ was written in every plane of her body, every flash of her eyes.

_And that's why I'm doing this. Katniss is only ever going to marry the guy she can't survive without, the guy she knows will help provide for her family and keep her from having to pay that ridiculous caelebs tax. She's not going to fall in love with some pretty boy who always says the right thing, who gives her beautiful jewelry and pretty flowers. She doesn't care about those things because she doesn't value them. All she values is survival. Getting by. Making ends meet. And fighting for what she believes in, although she doesn't necessarily say it like that._

The burlap sack filled with sand Haymitch was holding took a pounding as Katniss got a feel for punching in her body suit. She was tentative at first, not wanting to damage the suit's hands irreparably. Abernathy called her "sweetheart" and taunted her about the Northern soldiers that were going to fall over from a sissy punch. Katniss's eyes flashed, and she accidentally made contact with Haymitch's chin.

"Sorry, Mentor; I guess I just don't quite have the hang of these manly fists yet."

"The only way you're gonna get the hang of 'em is to use 'em, preferably on someone other than me. Now I'm gonna sit here with these strawberries and you and the boy are gonna show me that self-defense stuff you talked about earlier."

Gale smiled; sparring with Katniss was easily one of his favorite things to do. When Katniss fought, she became her true self, the girl that only Gale ever got to see. He was mildly upset that he'd have to share her in that form, but he could not begrudge the men to whom Katniss—and he—owed so much.

_Besides, I want to show these guys who they're dealing with, to make sure they don't decide to stop helping Katniss because they can't see beyond her scowl._

They started off slowly, lazily throwing and blocking punches. Katniss seemed to enjoy the bulk her suit gave her once she got used to it; she blocked all of Gale's obvious punches easily. Gale tried to fake her out, but she swiftly brought up her bulkier arm and stopped the punch, working in a soft jab of her own.

She also practiced kicking, nailing Gale with a well-placed snap kick. Katniss never kicked that hard; they each knew the other's limits so they rarely hurt each other when sparring. Gale knew Katniss would lose some of that control once they got more into the body contact part of the drills, but he always felt those bruises were worth the experience.

Gale grabbed Katniss from behind, reveling in the feeling even as she launched a larger elbow than he was used to from her into one of his ribs. He held on longer, giving her the chance to run through her self-defense possibilities. _Heel kick to groin. Stomp the instep. Rake the calf with a foot. Reverse head-butt. _All of these she did—half as hard as she would do with an enemy, of course.

They continued their fierce dance, Gale grabbing her from the font. Once, he pinned her arms to her chest; once, he left her arms free. Gale lost himself in Katniss and their routine, her fire fueling his, and, he could tell, vice versa. As she twirled and punched and kicked in his arms, she was his fire girl, all hardness and fierceness and determination. He'd been to the slag heap with more than a few girls, but none of them had ever made him feel this type of fire.

Their sparring ended when Katniss nailed Gale's nose with a reverse head-butt that was a little more powerful than normal, causing Gale to cry out and clutch his nose. He quickly figured out that no damage had been done, and Katniss's sweaty, disheveled form chased all thoughts of pain from his mind.

_Well, almost all…_

They both stood there panting, Katniss's eyes darkened to the same nearly coal-black he figured his to be. Haymitch was eyeing Gale speculatively, perhaps trying to figure out Gale's feelings for Katniss. The Mentor shrugged, seeming to reach a decision.

"Good job, tributes. Sweetheart, you've come a long way today. You still have a lot of work to do, but I think I'll make a man outta you yet. Hawthorne, you did good, too. My people told me they could get you into Everdeen's unit so she would have her best friend from boyhood to back up all her stories—and, of course, so she would have someone to watch her back. You in, boy?"

_Who are "my people"? What will their help cost us? Who—and how much—are we going to end up owing?_

"It would be an honor, Mentor Abernathy."

_What choice do I—do we—really have?_

As they hiked the several miles back to the fence, they discussed the tentative schedule for the rest of the week. Gale paid attention to their plans for the rest of the "I'll make a man outta you" training, but his mind wandered as they discussed getting rid of Katniss Everdeen to make room for Fletcher Everdeen.

"You'll hafta disappear, take all your hunting stuff, make sure nobody sees you leave."

"…need to talk to…"

"…can't tell nobody…"

"…don't want them to think…"

"…can't think nothin' if you're dead…"

Gale listened to Katniss and Haymitch argue back and forth; Cinna looked as serene as ever and wisely stayed out of the conversation. The stylist had finished his job, after all, and was likely anticipating heading back to the Capitol as soon as possible.

_Back to the Capitol, where freakish liaisons sit at desks and think up ways to teach barbaric district boys about how to get the girl. As if they understand Katniss, understand me. This is exactly how you woo a girl like Katniss Everdeen. You spar with her, you support her protectiveness, and you feed her fire with your own so that neither flame ever goes out. You take care of her family, or—more importantly—help her be able to take care of her family herself. You fight in front of her, beside her, and at her back, and when the time comes, she'll remember who had her back, who never thought twice about helping her survive. _

_Because that's what it'll come down to,_ Gale thought as he crawled under the fence. _Survival._

* * *

Making dough was second nature to Peeta; he was pretty sure he could mix the ingredients in his sleep. This batch of dough was the last he would have to make before quitting for the day; after a little bit of tidying, he would be home free.

_Well, as free as I can be in a home that houses my mother…_

He cleared his mind and allowed the monotonous quality of kneading dough soothe his mind. His moment of peace was interrupted by the bell ringing over the door and a loud, shrill voice calling out to his mother, who was running the till. It was almost closing time, but Macella Mellark would never close up shop early like some filthy commoner—or let her least favorite son leave the bakery kitchen before quitting time.

"Have you heard the latest?"

Peeta rolled his eyes. Aunt Tabby always began her juiciest gossip stories with that line said in that particular tone.

_You know, that tone that reminds me of the pigs at their suppertime…_

His Aunt Tabby (or "Tabitha," as he was always required to call her—to her face, at least) chattered on, but Peeta ignored whatever lascivious tale she was surely spinning for her older sister. Whatever it was was surely unimportant and was almost certainly none of his—or anyone else's—business.

_No, wait; don't tell me. Old Talmadge's daughter ran off with that coal miner she had her eye on. Or perhaps Lizzybeth Braintree was spotted walking with Duke Detrick after dark. Or maybe President Snow grew a brain and called off the war…What is this? A fairy tale?_

"…that Everdeen girl. What was her name?"

Peeta's musings screeched to a halt as he was rudely jolted out of them by the mention of _her _name.

"Katniss?" his mother hissed.

"Yeah, that's the one. Rumor has it she up and disappeared. Just took her stuff, climbed the fence, and ran off into the woods. I've heard a couple of different stories; maybe it depends on what you want to believe of the girl."

Peeta knew exactly what his mother wanted to believe of "the girl," and it was the exact opposite of what he wanted to believe. _What I do believe._

"Well?" his mother said impatiently.

"I'm getting there, Macy."

_Only she could get away with calling Mother that…_

"Most everyone knows of her…illicit activities…"

Peeta envisioned his mother nodding and wearing a pinched expression.

"So some believe she simply suffered an accident while breaking the law, that she…got what she deserved or paid the ultimate price for trying to feed her family, depending on who you ask."

"And the others?"

"Well, they think…you remember her mother, the apothecary's daughter?"

Aunt Tabby's slightly malicious tone told Peeta that she knew her sister would have no trouble remembering the woman who had once—and who maybe still—held his father's heart.

"Of course I do, Tabby; I'm not a moron."

"Of course you're not. You remember how she got when her husband didn't return from the war, right?"

"She was even more empty-headed than she was when she left."

"Some said she ran away in her mind. Well, now, some say her daughter followed in her footsteps, except this time, the girl physically ran away rather than mentally. She just couldn't face the possibility of losing that weak brother of hers to war and being left to care for her out-of-it mother…"

"Not that I could blame her for that; I wouldn't want to put up with that airhead, either."

"So what do you think? You know her better than I do."

"I most certainly do not! Just because she trades with the boys at our back door does not mean I've actually gotten to know the brat."

Peeta's hands kneaded the dough more roughly than was necessary.

"I know you'd never actually spend time with such a rough girl, Macy, but surely you observed her enough to figure out her character. So what do you think? Did she have an accident in the woods or did she run out on her family?"

The instinct to burst through the door and give both women what for almost overwhelmed Peeta, but he knew that he would never actually have the guts to do such a thing. He wanted to yell at them about how they knew nothing of Katniss, that she'd never abandon her family—especially Sage—and that she was so brave and loved so fiercely that he knew she would volunteer for her little brother if she could.

"Well, whatever the girl's faults, she does seem to know her way around the woods. And she always seemed overly indulgent of that boy; she always let him press his face and hands up against the display window as if he could actually afford anything he saw. But I always noticed a hardness in her eyes, a sort of angle to her jaw that spoke of doing whatever was necessary to survive."

"So you think she ran, chose to save her own skin and to live free?"

"Once a Seam slut, always a Seam slut," Peeta's mother said. "In fact, if I were the Peacekeepers, I'd watch out for that oldest Hawthorne brat as well. It wouldn't surprise me if they'd formed some licentious plan to run away into the woods together and to live in sin, just the two of them."

The metal mixing bowl clattered to the countertop by the door, but Peeta grabbed it just before it would've fallen over the edge. He froze in panic, afraid his mother was going to storm through the door and beat him.

_How will I ever survive war when I'm terrified of my own mother?_

"That? Probably just one of my stupid sons. You know how clumsy they are…Oh, no; I doubt he overheard us; you can't hear anything through that door, anyway."

Dread pooled in Peeta's stomach. His mother had just lied to her sister, but for what purpose? Would she really just forget about him interrupting her conversation, even by accident? Or would she…?

He hurried through the rest of what needed to be done, tidying up the bakery itself and setting things out they'd need early in the morning. Peeta kept waiting for his mother to punish him for eavesdropping on and disrupting her conversation, but the anticipated confrontation did not come.

He had taken off his apron and was about to make his escape upstairs when his mother walked through the door. The look on her face told him she was angry, but for some reason, she made no aggressive moves towards him. They stared each other down before she sneered derisively.

"What's wrong, Peeta? Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you? Why would I punish you when you're going off to war in a few days? I wonder what the Northern troops will think of your clumsiness."

She brushed past him without another word, surely thinking the crestfallen expression on his face was due to her cutting insults.

_Like I would be thinking about your insults when Katniss…_

Peeta trudged up the stairs, confusion and sadness and fear roiling inside him not for himself, but for his girl with the bow who was obviously in some sort of trouble. When Aunt Tabby came in a couple days later bursting with gossip about this long-lost Everdeen cousin who had taken Sage's place as oldest male in the Everdeen household, Peeta was more confused than ever.

* * *

The Meadow wasn't exactly an herb garden, but with the fence electrified all day and all night in order to prevent potential deserters, Sage was grateful that they could come here and at least get some wild mint for Mrs. Willow's headaches. He knew the mint would not make them go away, but he figured it would at least help lessen the pain. Katniss (_Fletcher,_ he firmly reminded himself) was with him, supposedly helping to gather mint and anything else the Meadow had to offer.

Kat…Fletch seemed far away, her…his eyes focused in the direction of town as if her…his…_oh, forget it_…her eyes could already see the doctor that was going to have her life in his hands the next day. Few women ever made it past the physical, but they did not have friends like Katniss did. Sage didn't understand exactly how Haymitch and his friends were going to get Katniss through the physical without being discovered, but he trusted the determined gleam in Haymitch's eyes.

His pouch full of mint, Sage looked at Katniss. True, her hair was cut shockingly short, her body was larger, and her face was wider, but she was still Katniss in her eyes—and in her heart. Part of him felt like a coward for letting his big sister go off to war for him, but another part realized that Katniss would always make a better soldier than him—boy or girl, older or younger.

_I hate pretending she's not Katniss. I hate having to pretend like I think there's a possibility my sister abandoned me and Mom. I hate that she's going to war because of me even though I know in my head she's really going because of he Capitol. I hate…_

Hatred wasn't generally Sage's style; as much as he loved his big sister, he realized that she had a greater capacity for anger, hate, and such than he did. _Not that that's necessarily a bad thing; those feelings might just keep her alive, although their cost..._

Sage pretended to gather a few more plants, wanting to stretch out this moment with Katniss, even if she wasn't saying anything. The upcoming physical clearly weighed heavily on her, as did the potential for being discovered and betrayed by someone from District 12. Sage wasn't blind, and neither were their neighbors. He was pretty sure that Leevy had recognized Katniss right away, but she pointedly greeted "Fletcher" with warmth and welcome when they were "introduced."

Sage had noticed a few other curious stares from other people in their neighborhood, but all of them were Seam through and through and would never betray one of their own to the Capitol. The merchants, on the other hand, were less trustworthy, but Katniss had stayed out of town altogether. _Some of them are less trustworthy, anyway; I tried to convince Katniss to get us some bread with the last of her game, but..._

"_But…Fletcher, Mr. Mellark is a good man. I'm sure he'd help us."_

"_Well, I'm glad you're sure, because I'm not. I'm not sure of him or any other merchant right now," Katniss said in a strangely deeper voice. "And if his wife answers the door…"_

Sage had conceded that point, knowing that Mrs. Mellark would've turned Katniss in on the spot had she recognized her. His heart swelled with love for his sister; he startled her by suddenly walking over to her and embracing her in a big hug.

"Thank you," he said, looking up at her lovingly. "For giving me a chance."

"A chance to live, Little Duck," Katniss agreed, holding Sage close.

_No, _Sage thought from Katniss's arms. _A chance to do something._

* * *

The small, dingy doctor's office located in the Justice Building was not, Katniss suspected, up to Capitol standards. The dirty white walls and aging equipment would not have filled her with confidence had she actually wanted an in-depth evaluation, but she hoped Haymitch had been right in his assessment of the benefits of coming in for the physical while most people were eating supper or working.

"_The most important thing you can do is to not attract attention, sweetheart. So you're gonna go during suppertime, after most merchants have already checked in but before the miners finish their shifts. This way, the doctors will be tired and unobservant after a full day of checking over merchants and will want to get you outta there before they are neck deep in miners._"

Katniss's doctor did not seem to be too attentive; he walked up to her with a bored expression on his face and asked for her name.

"Fletcher Everdeen," she said nervously in her unnaturally low-pitched voice, her hand instinctively reaching up to fiddle with a braid that was no longer there.

"Hold out your hand, please," the doctor said, reaching for a small, circular device.

Katniss hesitated, realizing that the dreaded blood test was finally happening. Fortunately, the doctor misinterpreted her nervousness.

"Young man," he said, sighing, "you're going to experience a lot worse than a finger prick where you're going."

"Um, I know," Katniss improvised. "I'm sorry. I don't like sharp objects. I didn't even like it when my mom used a needle to patch my clothes."

"Well, you aren't the only one. This won't hurt much; processing the blood will take a few minutes thanks to this decrepit blood tester. The Capitol has ones that can tell you whether you're related to President Snow and whether you've ever been sick, but this one will just identify you and label your blood as human—believe it or not, we've had some people try to use fake blood or animal blood—and healthy or unhealthy."

The doctor held out his free hand, and Katniss extended her right hand with dread. She didn't feel the gentle prick from the device, but she flinched anyway. The device pinged in acknowledgement, presumably telling the doctor it was processing the sample.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, we can do the rest of the physical in the several minutes that hunk of junk takes to analyze blood. If this were, say, District 2, you'd have 30 minutes of testing to look forward to, but since this is 12…"

Katniss would've been at least mildly insulted at the doctor's obvious disdain for her district if she weren't staring at the metal oval that held her life in its electronic hands.

"Take off your clothes; we have to prove you're a man."

Katniss flinched, but immediately complied. She blushed at standing naked before the doctor even though she knew he wasn't seeing her real skin. Not that the doctor appeared interested; only 2 areas merited his scrutiny, and then only for a few seconds.

_I guess he's been seeing naked men and boys all day, after all._

"Everything appears to be in order, Everdeen. Let's do a few exercises to make sure you're fit."

This part did not concern Katniss; she trusted Cinna's design and Haymitch and Gale's teaching to see her through fine.

"Jump up and down a few times. Good. Now reach up and touch the sky. Great. Put your hands on your hips and twist around to the right and then to the left. Excellent. Run in place for a few seconds. Okay. Now pick up that dummy rifle, pivot around, and pull the trigger. Looks good to me."

The machine pinged again, and the small feeling of triumph Katniss had felt at doing so well on the physical part of the examination melted away. She waited for the doctor to tell her the blood wasn't real and to rip off her disguise; she could practically hear the rap of Peacekeeper boots approaching her mother and brother to take them away and execute them.

"Everdeen, Fletcher," the doctor read out, and Katniss exhaled the breath she'd been holding.

His brows furrowed, and Katniss at first thought he'd heard her exhalation and was suspicious. She once again prepared for disaster.

"Your blood registers as human, but is listed on here as 'unhealthy.' Do you know anything about that, Everdeen?"

"Well, um, you did say the machine wasn't as good as the Capitol's. Maybe it made a mistake."

"I suppose it's possible, but I've only gotten this result a couple of times today, and both of those men had good reasons for showing up as unhealthy. Can you think of a good reason for these results?"

"Er…well…I was really sick a few months ago," Katniss said desperately, sensing her chance of success slipping away. "I can't tell you much about the illness, but when I woke up a few weeks later, the rest of my family was dead and buried and I was so weak I could barely stand."

"Well, I guess that could explain it; I'm going to have to make a note of it, though; wouldn't want a member of Panem's army to fall over from something preventable."

"No! I mean, no thank you, doctor; I'm getting better; really, I am. You should've seen me when I woke up; I was a corpse. I know I'm not what I used to be, but…there's no need to make a note in my file."

The doctor eyed Katniss suspiciously, his expression saying he was trying to figure out why Katniss was objecting so vehemently to his suggestion.

_Please misunderstand me again. Please misunderstand me again. Please…You're better at this than I am…No? What if…?_

"I'm sorry for my reaction, doctor," Katniss said, slumping her shoulders dejectedly. "It's just…I'm going off to war with bigger boys and stronger, more experienced men. I just don't want them to learn about my condition and think I'm weak or something. If you think I need to see a doctor about this, then leave a note or something; just please, don't let this get out to the rest of my company or unit."

The doctor's face cleared, understanding replacing his confusion and suspicion.

"Of course, young man; I understand. We doctors are sworn to protect the best interests of our patients above all else, and one way we do that is by never divulging anything we discuss with our patients. You don't have to worry about anything we've talked about today getting back to your prospective unit; your secret is safe with me.:

_Of course it is, doc; all secrets are safe in good ol' Panem. Ugh! That sounded like Haymitch._

"Thank you, doctor. Um…what will happen when you make your note in my records? What will I have to do?"

"Well, you'll probably be examined by your camp doctor, who will then carry out whatever treatment he deems necessary."

Fear spiked through Katniss and she almost protested again out of panic—until she remembered what Haymitch had said about them having a doctor who would help her every week.

"Sounds good, doctor," Katniss said, just wanting to get out of there.

"Best of luck to you, Everdeen—and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The doctor turned around to enter Katniss's information, signaling the end of the physical. Katniss wasted no time in leaving the Justice Building, wanting to escape town before more people got out and about. She passed Haymitch, who appeared to be drunkenly slumped over in a chair on the porch of some restaurant Katniss had never been able to afford. His eyes, however, were clear, and he did not need to respond to Katniss's tiny, tentative nod she gave him. He likely wouldn't care for the fast talking she'd had to do to dampen the doctor's suspicion, but she felt he would reluctantly agree that arousing some bit of suspicion was inevitable.

_And it won't be the last time, sweetheart,_ she heard in her head; the fact that her pessimistic voice was again speaking to her in Haymitch's voice was the least of her worries.

* * *

A/N:

Katniss's self defense methods are based off of a class I took in college called Rape Aggression Defense, which is based on the premise that women need a practical, easy-to-learn fighting style aimed at incapacitating a larger, stronger opponents to a point that allows escape.

I don't know that the rest of my updates will be this long; I've never posted a story I haven't yet finished before, and this is setting up to be longer than anything I've ever written. We'll see what happens.


End file.
